


The Shape Of You

by AquaWolfGirl



Series: Aqua's Caltrilla Fics [3]
Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Lots of Worshipping, Mainly just Cal being a sweetheart and also obsessed with his darkside GF, No Plot, Post-Game AU, Sprinkles of angst, Trilla lives AU, just musings, lots of fluff, soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaWolfGirl/pseuds/AquaWolfGirl
Summary: Established relationship post-Nur, in a universe where Trilla survives her wounds and joins the crew of the Mantis. A small series about Cal worshipping different parts of the woman he loves, regardless of how much she denies she's worth the affection.If you're looking for plot, you won't find much here. But if you're looking for softness with a bit of spice and lots of Cal being a lovesick dork, then welcome! Glad to see you!
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri | Second Sister
Series: Aqua's Caltrilla Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706914
Comments: 8
Kudos: 118





	The Shape Of You

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been in my head since I started playing the game and seeing how both sweet and chaotic Cal is, going head first into pretty much everything. And also since I saw a picture on Elizabeth Grullon's Instagram of her absolutely gorgeous legs. 
> 
> These are short, more little ficlets than anything else. For this series, I wanted to write chocolate kisses, not chocolate bars. Every chapter will be a different part of Trilla, and moments relating to said part. Reasonable suggestions welcome. ("Reasonable" as in no, I won't be doing a chapter on 'nostrils' or anything like that. Just no. You all know what's decent and what isn't.)
> 
> Thanks for clicking, and I hope you enjoy!

He loves her legs.

They’re one of the first things he notices about her. Back on Bracca, before he knew who she was, before he knew what she’d done, before they went through everything, he noticed two things about the Second Sister. Her mask was first, prompting questions of who she was, exactly. He’d seen Stormtrooper helmets, but never one like hers.

And then she climbed out of her TIE, and he saw legs.

Scrappers aren’t exactly known for their grace and elegant movements. Fluid movements aren’t exactly intentional, if they happen. It’s a lot of kneeling and climbing and balancing. Nobody on Bracca moves like she does.

She walks with purpose. One long leg in front of the other, covered in a black fabric that’s far more luxurious than anything he’s ever worn.

The thoughts flicker through his mind before he’s watching warily again.

And he had every right to be wary, back then.

Now is different.

Now is very, very different, in the absolute best way possible.

-

He can touch her, now, whenever he wants. For someone who is so in tune with the Force and touching, it means he wants to touch her a lot. He likes to feel, likes to rub, like to feel the way her skin becomes warm from his thumb stroking her ankle as they all sit in the common area and listen to Greez go on and on about one time he was on Corsucant and beat some incredibly wealthy man at sabacc.

He can see those legs any time he wants, now. The first morning she gets up to use the fresher, and pulls one of her shirts over her head, he nearly chokes on his own breath. While she’s taller than him, he’s broader than her, and his shirts drape differently on her slender form. Later, he’ll notice the way her sharp collarbones look so damn suckable when they’re peaking up from his neckline. Later, he’ll love how she tucks her fingers into the fabric of the sleeves, thumb rubbing at the material as though constantly reminding herself that she’s alive, she’s here, she’s safe, she’s with him.

For now, he stares, the hem of the shirt just barely covering her perfect ass and making her long legs look even longer.

He should be ashamed at the way he literally salivates as Trilla turns and leaves. He should be ashamed of the needy whimper that leaves his lips, the one the hiss of the closing door thankfully covers so she won’t know just how pathetic he is for her.

He’s weak for her, he knows it, and she knows it too when she comes back and his arms find her, bringing her back down to bed and marveling at how the morning seems to make everything softer. Her skin, her smirk, her eyes as she tumbles back and pins him down the way she always does.

Though he always notices her legs (how can he not?), he notices them the most during training. Trilla’s older than him, had trained more under Cere. Now, she shows him how to move like she does. He’s not nearly as graceful, but he’s trying. She’s better, though. She uses her legs as tools, kicking and twirling out of his range before lunging forward again, slicing through the air. He’d love to watch her, if he wasn’t so busy trying to block her.

“Again.”

Tapal trained him hard. Trilla trains him harder. He has to wonder if it’s because she’s training herself as well. Or she thinks she needs to go harder to make up for what she’s done, what she is. Or, rather, what she was.

She pushes and pushes and pushes through, even when he can see she’s faltering. Even when sweat starts to gather at her temples. Even when her cheeks are flushed dark with exertion.

His concern is his downfall. One moment he’s standing with her half of his saber locked with his half, and then her leg is wrapping around his and he’s going down. His saber spins away from him, extinguishing as she falls forward, straddling him.

“You’re distracted,” she says, breathless as she pins him. “You need to learn how to focus on your opponent.”

“I was,” he groans. He’d hit the durasteel floor of the ship hard.

“You - what?” she asks.

Kriff. “I was focused on you,” he insists. “The fact that you looked like you were about to pass out.”

“I’m fine.” It’s said too hard, too quickly.

“It’s fine to rest.”

“Your opponent won’t give you rest.”

“Yeah, well, right now you’re not my opponent,” Cal insists.

“Aren’t I?” There’s that smooth, sultry tone he’s come to know and love. The tone that once taunted him, the tone that once told him he was nothing, but now reassures him that he is _everything._ As she is to him.

An opponent. A friend. A lover.

To use that word is both awkward and _exhilarating._

“Sure,” he says, just so he can end the conversation and put their mouths to better use.

She hates when he takes his time with her. When he actually slows down, when he speaks, when he dares to kiss all over her. He knows why. He knows she thinks she doesn’t deserve the affection. She’s still conflicted, constantly torn between not only the dark and the light, but torn about what she’s done. All of it.

And so of course he tries to take his time as often as possible.

“What are you doing?” she asks, raising a dark brow at him as he moves himself to the bottom of the bed and takes her ankle in his hand. So much strength, so much power, and yet so much softness…

“You’ll see,” he replies.

He doesn’t need the Force to know she wants to smack him in that moment. But she doesn’t.

He’ll count his wins where he can get them.

He starts at her ankle, lips pressing to the warm skin there, before he moves up her calve. The Empire emphasized composure even during moments of discomfort, but he knows her better than that. He likes to think he knows her better than anyone at this point.

It’s not the action she’s opposed to. It’s the affection behind it. At the beginning, he found himself on his knees a lot, staring up at her as she guided him. And that’s all fine and good, he enjoys being on his knees before her, but everything they did was influenced by what she was used to, what she wanted him to do.

There’s a difference between obedience, and worship.

And he’s not a huge fan of obeying.

It takes until he gets up to her knee for her to slip her fingers into his hair. Not pushing away, but holding. He smiles against the underside of her knee, her ankle braced against his shoulder, now. His lips find the inside of her thigh, and the rare hitch of her breath makes his heart skip a beat.

He loves how warm she is, how the closer he gets to where only he can go the hotter her skin is. Loves the way her hand clenches in his hair. Is it painful? Sure. But sometimes a little pain can be good…

“You are insatiable, Cal Kestis,” she hisses against his lips several moments after he kisses all the way up, both of them tasting of her, his nose still shining with her release as his hand moves to cup her ass. He strokes her thigh, down to her knee, before coming back up and slipping up to her lower back. It’s then he pulls her closer, into his arms in the way that he loves.

“Yes,” he agrees, feeling those long, slender legs wrap around his waist as she pushes him onto his back. Her grin is positively wicked as she leans down, knees tightening on either side of his hips as she goes straight for a nip to his lower lip.

He really, really loves her legs.


End file.
